


Just A Spell

by mssjynx



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Fluff, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27838180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssjynx/pseuds/mssjynx
Summary: Arthur and Merlin are out on a hunt when Arthur is knocked off his horse by something unseen. Arthur claims that he's fine, Merlin hopes that he's right.It isn't until Arthur's arrogance and snark is replaced by affectionate touches and compliments that Merlin starts to think maybe what had hit him was a spell.To be more specific, a love spell that leaves the target enchanted by whomever they lay their eyes on first.Of course, that person is Merlin and he has no idea what to do about it.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 84





	Just A Spell

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo!  
> I've never written a Merlin fic before, this is def a first time thing. But I wrote this a little while ago and I think I'd like to finish it-  
> Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to read more!!!

Merlin hated going hunting. 

He would rather have spent the day mucking out the stables than be riding by Arthur’s side in the uncomfortable saddle of a horse who was probably more coordinated than himself. 

“I hate hunting.” He didn’t bother to hold his tongue as his horse hopped over a rock, jostling him and slamming the saddle up into his behind. 

Arthur’s laugh rung out in the forest, uncaring for the creatures that scuttled away from the sound. “I know,” he responded and Merlin grunted in irate and soreness. 

“I’d rather muck the stables,” he called. Arthur only snickered, throwing a gleeful look over his shoulder that Merlin hated. 

“I can have that arranged too, y’know.” 

There was a reason Merlin hated that look.

Arthur kicked his horse into a trot and Merlin grunted when his own didn’t hesitate to follow. 

He hated trotting too. 

“C’mon now. I want a mount of my own. And one with big antlers.” Merlin barely heard the words, too busy restraining himself from setting Arthur’s coat on fire just for the amusement of it. The prince rode his horse with such ease it left an unfair bitterness on Merlin’s tongue. He’d never been good on horseback- No matter his practice or how often he was forced into the saddle to accompany Arthur on trips in and out of the kingdom. “You are listening, aren’t you Merlin?” And the knowing tone in the Prince’s voice had Merlin rolling his eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes, I’m your  _ prince _ .” 

Merlin choked down a scoff, faking a cough into his fist when Arthur threw a glare over his shoulder. Of course, taking a hand from the saddle beneath him had Merlin falling totally out of rhythm with the horse, bouncing uncomfortably for several paces before he managed to awkwardly regain his tempo. His horse huffed, flicking her head to let him know what she thought of his riding. 

“I didn’t roll my eyes-” he tried. 

“You’ve been my servant for how long? I  _ know _ you Merlin, there’s no use lying to me,” he drawled. “Now stay on this time, will you?” And that was all the warning Merlin got before Arthur’s horse leapt into a canter- no, a  _ gallop _ and Merlin nearly went toppling backwards off his saddle. 

He ditched the rains and scrambled for his horse’s mane, muttering to himself about how he wished he’d never even left his hometown. 

Fortunately, he didn’t fall off as they flew through the forest. He ignored the rude thumping off the saddle against his backside, and focused on keeping his stirrups which more often than not fell out from beneath his feet. 

Arthur did end up catching himself a dear, but it bore no antlers and he complained and whined more akin to a little child than heir to the throne. It seemed Merlin was all out of sympathy though as he hauled the dear up onto his shoulder, yelping as he nearly fell beneath the weight. His knees trembled as he stood up, hauling the beast towards the backside of his horse. 

The brat of a mare whipped her tail in his face before turning her hide around so she could face him, giving him no chance to heave the game onto her hide. 

“You little-” he muttered to himself, meeting her gaze with a glare. 

She knew what she was doing. 

“I think it’s your fault,” Arthur declared and Merlin had to stop himself from throwing the deer at Arthur (or trying to). He focused his efforts on hobbling back around to the side of the horse, basically falling against her hip in order to transfer the game onto her back. “You’re bad luck. I never catch anything good when I’m out hunting with you.” With the satisfaction of his conclusion, Arthur hopped back up into his saddle and met Merlin’s glare with a pleased smile. “Perhaps I should use you as bait in a trap. I could kill a bear then- That’d be an impressive mount.” 

“I’ll mount  _ your  _ head on a wall in a minute,” Merlin muttered to himself, strapping the deer to the back of his saddle and tying it on either side around his steed’s stomach. He tucked the dead rabbits that hung from the saddle beneath the deer’s head before mounting his horse and huffing a sigh. 

He wasn’t excited for the bumpy ride back, especially with the extra weight on the back. It always made his horse grumpier and she never hesitated to take it out on him by dragging him through trees and knocking his knees into the trunks. 

“Well. Hurry it up then, it’s going to be dark by the time we get back if you take any longer,” Arthur scolded and Merlin let his head fall back in frustration. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. 

Then he bumped his heel to his horse’s waist and they started back to Camelot. 

It was a quick ride home, ridden mostly in canter which Merlin surprisingly preferred. The gait was comfortable and slow despite making more ground, and he found himself easier to relax. He supposed it was because he spent less time worrying about falling off. 

And had it not been Merlin’s life, they’d have made a simple trip back with no trouble at all. 

As it was, Merlin’s life never liked “simple” and they’d only been off for about ten minutes before Merlin heard a distinct ‘ _ thwang’ _ come from somewhere to his right and something flicked through the air, smacking Arthur right in the chest and sending him back off his horse. He hit the ground hard and Merlin swore he was about to trample him when his horse side-stepped at the very last moment. 

Arthur’s steed had trotted a few feet forward before turning back and blinking at his rider who laid flat on his back. Panic rattled Merlin as he pulled his mare to a stop before leaping off her back, both in fear of an attack to himself and in a rush to reach Arthur and check if he was okay. But with his feet on the ground and his breath held, there was no sound, movement or feeling at all that there was anyone in the area other than themselves. 

Still, he was cautious as he shuffled to Arthur’s side, falling to his knees on the dirt road and reaching for his neck. His eyes skimmed over the man’s body but saw no indication of wound or weapon. For a moment, his eyes caught on a flicker or something- a mist, or steam that looked pinkish in colour and seemed to glimmer beneath the scattered sunlight. But when Merlin blinked, the colouring was gone and he questioned if he was seeing things in his adrenalised state. 

“Arthur. Arthur? Are you okay?” The prince’s eyes opened at Merlin’s words and the sorcerer took only a moment to find his racing pulse beneath his fingertips. Soft blue eyes fell to Merlin’s face and the prince blinked languidly up at him for a long moment. “Are you hurt?” Merlin asked again, grabbing Arthur’s arm and helping him sit upright. 

He did so, albeit slowly, and seemed to take a moment to come back to the present moment. As if dazed, he flicked his eyes from the forest, to his horse, to Merlin where they remained, curiosity and interest lingering in the swirls of icy blue. 

“I’m… fine.” The words seemed thick on his tongue as he spoke and Merlin felt relief settle his racing heart. In hopes to find any explanation for what had just happened, he turned his eyes back to the forest around them, but another slow scan of their surroundings left him with nothing. 

There was no one there but the two of them. 

He looked back to Arthur and found the prince still gazing at him with a funny look in his eyes. 

“Are you… okay?” he asked again, slower this time. 

Arthur didn’t turn his eyes away, but blinked and managed a little smile. “I’m good,” he said with certainty and Merlin checked him once again for any injury. He placed his hand against the knight’s chest, testing for any tenderness, but Arthur’s only reaction was to gently grab Merlin’s wrist. “I’m fine, I swear,” he assured his servant and Merlin only wondered why the man wasn’t shoving him away and brushing himself off, swearing that Merlin should be watching for attacks of any kind seeing as he was the prince’s servant. 

None of that happened, and Merlin was at a loss to the soft look in Arthur’s gaze. 

“Okay,” he said slowly, grabbing Arthur’s hand and standing up. He helped the knight to his feet and gave him a little nudge towards his horse. “Well, let’s get back before anything else weird happens.” 

Merlin was worried he’d hit his head and made a note to get Gaius to check the prince upon their return. 

Arthur hopped back up onto his horse who nickered in delight, swinging her nose back to bump his foot. When Merlin hauled himself onto his own steed, she only snorted and stamped her hoof. He sighed, wishing one day to find a horse that liked him, before lifting his gaze to Arthur who had turned his horse around to face him. Those pretty eyes were still on him and he felt like his skin was a size too tight. 

“Try not to fall off again,” he said in what he intended to be a rude tease. But his voice felt weak and wobbly and instead of scoffing or returning an insult, Arthur only smiled at him and nodded. 

He turned his horse forward and they started off into a canter. 

Merlin tried to make sense of what had just happened, but found himself at a loss. Arthur must have hit his head when he’d fallen. Otherwise, well… Well, something was going on and Merlin didn’t like it. 

With one last look to his left, nothing but the trees watched them leave and he felt a sense of unease trail down his spine. Like he’d missed something important.

-

Gaius took five seconds checking over an Arthur who had started acting a bit more like himself by the time they’d gotten back to Camelot (complaining that he was fine and grumbling over the fuss) before coming to the conclusion that the knight was completely fine. There were no signs of concussion or head injury at all. And no symptoms of anything that might make Arthur behave weird at all. 

But when Gaius dragged Merlin from Arthur’s quarters and as they walked back down to their little home together, something still felt unsettled in the sorcerer's stomach. 

Merlin wasn’t sure if he had been seeing things or not. He could have sworn he’d seen  _ something _ hit Arthur, but for all he knew it could have been a bird in his peripheral vision flying across the path in front of him and Arthur could have just tumbled off the horse on his own! A bird that close would spook the horse which would perfectly explain the fall; perhaps Merlin was finally losing his marbles…

It was surely just a bird, he told himself. And with the assurance that he had nothing at all to worry about and that the future King of Camelot was completely and totally fine, Merlin managed a restful sleep that evening, filled with dreams of deer and pink mists. 

When he woke the next morning, he was absolutely sure that he’d seen nothing but a bird and the two of them had been completely alone in the woods the day before. There wasn’t a thing to be worried about at all. 

With a bounce in his step and confidence that he had solved the little mystery, Merlin got an early start to his day and found himself knocking on Arthur’s door a half hour earlier than usual (so, actually on time for once). 

“Come in,” Arthur called and Merlin pushed the door open with his shoulder, the prince’s breakfast on a platter in his hands. 

“Good morning, Sire,” he said, placing the tray down atop the chest at the foot of Arthur’s bed. He clapped his hands together and met Arthur’s eyes with a cheerful grin, hoping that if he was pleasant enough Arthur wouldn’t give him too much trouble. “Sleep well?”

Arthur was propped up on one elbow, his bed covers half fallen to the floorboards except for the one sheet that was draped over the lower half of his body. It didn’t hide any of the prince’s chest from Merlin who had to make a conscious effort to keep his eyes on Arthur’s face. 

Arthur’s own eyes watched Merlin with curiosity, twinkling in a way that showed he too was feeling fresh from a good sleep. “You’re especially cheerful this morning,” he remarked, dragging himself upright so he could lean over to the edge of the bed and pull the tray atop the mattress where he could get to it. 

Merlin thanked whatever Gods were looking after him that the sheet didn’t fall any more than an inch, finding it impossible to continue to look Arthur in the face after catching a glimpse of his naval and the little trail of hair it peeking over the cloth.

“I slept well,” was the only explanation he felt capable of delivering as he turned his attention to the pile of yesterday’s clothing on the floor. “Did you?” 

“I did,” Arthur replied, lips smacking as he started into his breakfast. Merlin knew there was no way he was going to be able to keep a straight face while watching the future king pop grapes into his mouth with his sleep-tousled hair and chiseled chest on display so he kept his back to the man as he folded and put away his clothing. 

There was no denying the fact that Merlin had a preference for men over women. Even as a boy, he didn’t pay much mind to the girls in his town- always preferring to hang out with his boy friends even after they’d all started taking an interest in girls. His first kiss had been a boy he was working in the fields with- a boy who he’d shown his magic to when they snuck away from work to wander the forest and pretend they didn’t live in such a poor and hopeless town. 

And as he aged, he got better at brushing off comments about girls and girlfriends, women and princesses. There had been little girl crushes throughout his time, and living in Camelot he saw his fair share of beautiful dames. But it was always the knights and the men that took his attention. 

Being a sorcerer didn’t mean he got to escape the troubles of crushing on people, and like anyone who knew Prince Arthur, there had been a small crush Merlin had harboured for the first few months. The snarking comments back and forth, the supposedly nonchalant moments of endearment that Merlin treasured far more than he should have, the way they clicked together in almost every situation. But Merlin knew that Arthur saw him as nothing but a servant boy and he had accepted that long before he got to know the good and pure heart within the man. 

Still, that didn’t change the fact that Merlin was, well… Merlin, and Arthur was the Prince of Camelot, heir to the throne and absolute golden hero. 

Merlin got over his crush. 

Mostly. 

There were times where he was reminded of the helpless attraction he had towards the prince, but he had bigger things to worry about (like keeping his magic secret) and he could ignore some stupid feelings in order to save a few lives and keep one arrogant and very oblivious prince out of trouble. 

“I had a lovely few dreams too,” Arthur murmured, his voice low and tone far more suggestive than Merlin was prepared for. He choked on his own breath, slapping his chest with a helpless cough as he glanced back to Arthur. There was a cocky smirk on his lips and Merlin pulled a face. 

“No need for details,” Merlin wheezed, desperate to blank out the images of Arthur and whatever women he desired. “I’m good.” He cleared his throat which ached from the force of his choked coughing. 

He didn’t know which was worse. The imagery or the pain. 

Arthur only snickered. “Well, best get me some clothes for the day then, will you?” he said, stretching his arms up over his head. Merlin kept his eyes on the oh-so-interesting floorboards with determination like no other as he fetched the prince’s clothes for the day. His heart simply stopped beating when he turned back to Arthur, who was now standing and no longer hiding behind any sheets. Hands on his hips, a cheshire grin and as naked as a newborn baby.

The panic and horror that exploded in Merlin was indescribably, so much blood rushing to his cheeks that he was surprised he didn’t pass out on the spot. He basically threw the pile of clothes into Arthur’s chest, almost breaking his neck with how quickly he looked away from the prince. He ignored the snickering behind him as he snatched up the washing basket and shoved the drawers closed. “I just remembered,” he yelped, hoping that if he spoke loud enough, he could get the image of Arthur naked out of his head, “I have to- to go do, um, do something-” He couldn’t have thought up an excuse if he tried, his heart thumping in his ears as he strode briskly to the door. 

He slammed it shut behind him without even one look back; he was sure he would die if Arthur was still uncovered, and took off at a run as soon as he was in the hall. He didn’t stop until he had reached the other side of the castle, and the red didn’t fade from his cheeks for at least another hour. 

He didn’t return to clean up Arthur’s chambers until he was absolutely certain that the prince wasn’t occupying them. And not once throughout the day could he get the image off his mind, knowing that it wasn’t horror and fear that kept the picture behind his eyelids, but something a lot more shameful. 


End file.
